Her
by kingofsecrets15
Summary: Even in Hell, all he could think of was her. Drabble. R&R, first Diablo fic. M-rating for torture only.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Diablo franchise in any form or fashion. Blizzard does.**

The whip.

That was how his day would start.

For hours on end, the barbed, burned length of metal and rope would sear its way down his back, crossing it cruelly in different shapes and forms as its master laughed and laughed, until the next one took his place.

Then came the fire.

It was how his afternoons came.

It burned his body and choked his lungs as he struggled over the pit, screaming till his throat was raw with smoke and brimstone. The demons below him cheered and cheered, feasting and laughing as if it was a game to be had.

And finally, the piercings.

That was how he spent his nights.

Every demon in the Burning Hells seemed to enjoy wetting their swords and spears with the 'blood' of angels, and he was no exception. Every spear, every sword, every twisted black dagger that found its way into his heart and body and soul made him first scream, then whimper in pain, to the demons amusement. Hundreds and hundreds of the hell spawn lined up for it, their eyes hungry and their eyes glowing in pleasure at the sight of the pain and suffering.

Some days it was a faceless demon wielding the pain and misery he suffered daily, laughing and looking forward to 'having fun' with another soul. Other times it would be another lost soul, utterly broken by the realms inhabitants and fueled by the hatred that thrived in this place.

Even the Lord of Hatred himself would show on occasion, coming and going whenever he felt the need to see the one who had caused him such trouble face the pain of the whip and the fire and everything else Hell had to offer.

"You think you know pain, archangel? You don't know the meaning of pain." Those were his words the day they had disappeared into the realm of hatred, the sick playground and kingdom of the most vile and sinister of the Prime Evils.

How true those words had turned out to be.

He was given a single hour of sanity every day, to lick his wounds and recover as much as he could.

And all he could think of, in that small time of sanity, was her.

The only creature in all the Burning Hells and High Heavens who had his heart in the palm of her hand.

And she was gone from him.

"Lilith…I'm sorry."

Then the gates would open once more, and once more he would be whipped and burned and pierced as he was every day.

Then came the time he had for her.

Only for her.

**A/N: Okay, I have no idea why I wrote this. I mean, the only Diablo game I've ever played was Diablo III (Best game ever!) and I barely know anything very deep in the lore. But alas, here is the story, and I hope some will at least read it.**

**P.S: The guy is Inarius. Look him up if you don't know who he is.**

**R&R Please.**

**Sincerely,**

**kingofsecrets15**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If I owned Diablo, Leah would still be alive and Imperius (as much as I like him) would've gotten a beat down from Tyrael when he tried to pull the 'I'm your master' card in Diablo III.**

Sometimes, he could see her.

Even with his pain-shattered mind and mutilated eyes, he could see her as plain as the day he had met her. In every mirror hung to mock him, in every shadow at the corner of his eye she would come to him, getting closer and closer until he could almost reach out and touch her, take her hand, embrace her.

But then she would fade away, and once again, he would be alone.

She still looked the same, even after a century's time in Sanctuary. Cloven hooves instead of feet, sharp quills instead of hair, she even had claws instead of fingers. She was clearly a demoness, a seductress of both stunning beauty and utter wretchedness that only a mad man could call a lover. She was a monster of the worst kind, an abomination to the world above.

Just like him.

He couldn't see much (His torturers had not been kind to his eyes in their machinations), but he knew without having to look in the mirrors surrounding him, mocking him, that he would never be considered beautiful by any heavenly means ever again.

His wings were gone; plucked out and burned in front of him as he screamed in pain and horror. The places they had resided, once bright with light and power, were torn and horribly scarred. His face…No, to speak of it was just to allow more pain into his mind, his soul.

In any case, for all the good being an Archangel was, he might as well have been hell spawn from the start.

He could still remember her face. Remember her look of betrayal and horror the first time she had been banished to the Void. Maybe death would have been preferable to an eternity in silence but they both knew he could not have done it. Not even as he raised his sword to her neck, he couldn't do it.

He remembered his promise.

Was he cowardly? Foolish in making his promise to her?

He still loved her. That he knew for sure.

Even after banishing her for a second time, he knew it was true. All that trouble, all that pain, and for what? The lives of their children? Their utter destruction, their deaths, just to avoid persecution at the hands of the Angiris Council or the Lords of Hell?

It made him want to laugh at the irony.

Was there any _Hope _to be found in their children surviving? How about _Valor_? Was there any in their actions? Did _Fate _or _Wisdom_ play a part? Would there be any _Justice_ for them, should they perish by heaven's hand?

He wondered how she was doing in the Void.

Was she okay? Was she suffering? Maybe there had been something there for her.

He doubted it. The only thing in the Void was darkness and bitter silence.

She was still there.

Even as his hour came to an end and the demons came for his daily dose of suffering, he still saw her. Even when he was dragged and kicked and bitten out of that room of mockery, she was still there.

Watching. Waiting.

He could only hope she was waiting for him.

**A/N: I must be mad to if I think I'll get anywhere with this. Yet here's another chapter in what I feel will turn to be a drabble of sorts. We'll see.**

**With best wishes,**

**kingofsecrets15 **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to do this? NO! NO, YOU DON'T NEED THE WHIP! I OWN NOTHING!**

The first thing he noticed was the silence.

Every being, be they angel, demon, or nephalem, knew at least one thing about the Burning Hells.

They were never quiet.

But indeed, as he woke from the longest sleep he'd ever managed in the Realm of Hatred (The pain made sure it was never long enough), he was almost completely deafened by the silence that greeted him.

There was no cruel laughter, no curses to foul the air, no sounds of anything besides the crackling of the eternally flaming pits scattered across every inch of the Burning Hells and the archangel's own ragged breathing. It was as if the entire realm's horde of cruel, dirty and monstrous beasts had been emptied from this place.

But for what?

Not that it really mattered.

He was still here. Still hanging by a thread of whatever holy (or at this point, unholy) power remained within him as he attempted to gather the broken pieces of his mind.

They were so fragile, but yet so sharp.

Almost like glass.

No…No!

His name was Inarius, brother of Tyrael, lover of…her.

He had to find her.

He jerked and thrashed upon the hooks that 'Lord Mephisto' had so kindly left to rust within his back, barely acknowledging the enormous amount of pain that surged through him as old scars became fresh wounds.

A sickening tearing sound announced his efforts to be successful.

He didn't bother trying to argue his actions. What was the point? She would hate him for what he did. She would-

"Stop."

He pushed forward, falling to his knees as the light within him poured out at the simple action of walking. Maybe he could just lie down and sleep. Sleep sounded good…

He grabbed the demonic pole arm that rested on the floor, ignoring the fresh agony the barbed hilt brought upon his flesh as he managed a steady gait.

_Clack_

That was it, just keep going. Keep pushing.

_Clack_

Not too far now…

_Clack_

There. He'd made it to the first door. Only three thousand miles of uncharted hell left to cover.

He could do it.

For her.

He couldn't help but allow his mind to wander a bit as he passed the splendid scenery this particular hell hole offered. When was the last time he had seen his brother? How long had it been since _Justice _had tossed him to Hatred, just to appease him?

He had stayed true though; let it never be said there was Justice in murder.

He managed a chuckle at that.

No one had said anything about torture though.

How long had it been since he had last seen the skies of Sanctuary, the world he had formed with _her _and the rest of the rebellious souls that had joined them? How long had it been since he had last seen _her_?

How long had he been walking?

He didn't see the gate until he had walked straight into it.

Tumbling into the scorching earth, he hardly noticed the loss of his 'crutch' as it fell into the depths of hell. Nor did he pay much heed to the amount of his 'blood' that had trailed behind him on his maddening journey.

Blood. Such a glorious substance. The way it flowed was so-

"No, No!"

He almost roared as he slammed his fists into the massive archway, earning him more cuts and the slight shift of the only thing blocking his escape from this infernal realm. Again and again he gave out his cry, and again and again the light would pour, and once again, the portal would flicker.

It 'opened' with a thundering crash, echoing its presence throughout the lands of Hatred's Realm as the archangel fell once more. The harsh, burning energies of hell and demonic power came together to form his path of escape.

And hopefully, to her.

**A/N: The next chapter will conclude this drabble (or whatever it is) and finish this little tale. I hope you enjoy this newest chapter and please R&R.**

**Sincerely,**

** kingofsecrets15**

**P.S: This is during Diablo's attack on Heaven during the final act of Diablo III. He does gather all the armies of the Burning Hells, so this seemed like the best place to put this chapter. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Seriously? Do you really have to ask?**

They had taken him.

The Morlu.

The remnants of nephalem souls fractured and torn by our dear lord Mephisto until they were no longer what they once were. Filled with the gift of hatred, they sought to destroy all with the might of their anger and pain.

Had that been the fate of all his children? To become servants of the Burning Hells and pawns for their lord's schemes and plots? Was that his fate?

They had stolen him from sight as he appeared from their realm, claiming him as their master's soldier before they improved him.

From stolen flesh and bone they had given him new wings.

From the cries of blood and revenge within all things they had forged his weapon.

From his hatred and misery they had made him anew.

He could hear Lord Diablo's voice, the terror and fear filling him as he was commanded to sack his former home. He would have done so anyway. He had cried out for Justice when he had been cast aside, and now?

They would have it _taken _from them.

The first swing severed the winged soldier's head from his shoulders. The second removed his brother's wings. She joined him just out of reach, a dance of death playing out as he danced with her again and again until she (and the winged dancers) were departed and gone.

He slashed through the man's wings, sending him to the one place he now craved more than anything as he searched for her. She had escaped the Void, and no one would keep him from her. Was she there? As the hooded man slumped over she was behind the next, and the next, and the next, until no one else was there.

Another command. A new place.

The Spire.

He flew on wings not his own as he reached the pass way between the tower and the Arch. He could feel his brother Izual struggling as he battled against a nephalem and a mortal.

A child of his. An ancestor.

He flew down and tackled the mortal, allowing his corrupted brother to finish his descendant as he drew his scythe and faced this…stranger.

The mortal was strong. He stood against him as he battered him down with his hatred and despair. He cut him with El'druin as he deflected his blows and pushed him to the edge.

How did he know that? Who was this man?

He saw his face.

A single breath stolen from him.

He could feel it. The burning as the stranger, no, his brother slid the sword, the blade of Justice, through his chest. Then the cold as his vision darkened. Was he going to see her now? Had the time finally come?

No.

He screamed as he began to burn and burn and burn as his mind was seared with the pictures, the images…the memories. The truth.

He knew.

The corrupted angel, the tortured angel, the archangel screamed as he tore the stolen wings from his back just as a true pair replaced them. He tore his helmet from his face as the face of an archangel replaced it, the face of Inarius. The breast plate, the gauntlets, the greaves, all replaced with light and power and memory.

He could remember everything.

Tyrael, Imperius, the High Heavens…Lilith.

He knew it. He knew where she was.

He had her.

Diablo.

He didn't stop for his brother' questions or the nephalem's demands as he spread his wings and drew his sword. Tearing the stone from the structure as he lifted, the archangel flew through the air and to her as everything crumbled around him.

He was going to get her back.

Even if it cost him everything.

**A/N: Whoops changed my mind. This is going to be a teeny bit longer. Let's see how this plays out for our favorite archangel, shall we?**

**Sincerely,**

** kingofsecrets15**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Nope, nothing.**

He saw him.

Standing atop the Crystal Spire, the Prime Evil himself stood as heaven became a new hell and his power and strength grew at each passing moment. He could almost see the terror Diablo was feasting on as the cries of anguish and defeat filled him with a hunger unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

He felt it too. It was almost as if he could reach out and take a bit of it in his grasp. A little taste wouldn't-

Diablo could sense him now. With each flap of his wings and each foot step closer the Lord of Terror seemed to glow with amusement at the sight of just another angel to crush in his grasp or to claw with his talons or feast on his flesh.

Surprise was a new expression to see on the demon's face.

"You should be dead."

He didn't bother replying as he took the moment to his advantage. Diablo grunted as the blade pierced his flesh before he tore it out and threw it along with him like a child's toy to the edge of the Spire.

"No matter. I will enjoy feasting on your terror as you receive the fate my brother should have granted you long ago."

Raising his foot to crush him, the Prime Evil didn't seem to notice his sword until it had found a resting place in his knee. A few strikes crossed his opponent's face and chest until Diablo roared in rage. Slamming his tail into him, the demon raised his tail again and again, driving him into the cold floor farther and farther each time as the demon crushed the light to his darkness.

He could feel her. She was close, very close, but trapped in something. Something very familiar to him.

As he rolled out of the way, he felt a tug on his soul, as if someone was playing a game with him and wanted to pull him along. He felt it again as he ducked under the demon's strikes, missing Diablo's roar as he felt it again.

His chest.

Diablo felt the breath leak out of him as a glowing blade pierced his chest, tearing at the flesh until his black heart was revealed for all to see. Roaring in fury and bloodlust, the demon turned on him and impaled him on the spines that crossed the Prime Evil's arms. Raising them, the Prime Evil threw him away once again, only to discover a warmth within himself as a new soul entered his stone.

It was dark.

The light of his soul kept the fragments of the Lords of Hell blinded and burning as he searched for her. He could feel the whispers of the darkness and the shadows around him as he searched for her. How they lulled him to sleep with their sweet embrace-

He saw her.

A glimpse, an outline of a feminine form, pressed against the far side of the stone's walls. She shivered and curled up even tighter as her wings wrapped around herself.

He could feel the burning hatred aimed at him from the demons in the shadows as they did nothing but slink away as he ran to her. She didn't notice as he knelt to her, didn't notice as he stroked her cheek, didn't notice as he lifted her from the freezing stone.

She was so cold.

As cold and dark as the Void she had been trapped in. Was this the same woman he had loved so long ago? Would she even remember him as he was? Did she…did she still love him?

He wrapped her up in his embrace as he glowed brighter and brighter until all of the darkness and shadow was driven away and the screams of the demons filled his ears with their alluring sound before he was gone with her.

They were falling.

He didn't have the strength to spread his wings as he fell with her. Tumbling through the air, he watched as the stone flew past him, the darkness within smothering the light he had briefly brought upon the accursed creation as it soared through the skies of the High Heavens.

He had only reach out his hand and grasp it, to hold it, to take it so he could survive their fall through the world.

But he found he couldn't do it.

He had already let her go once. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

He felt every part of him, save the piece of his heart within his arms, break and shatter as they fell into their world. Skidding on the surface of their sanctuary, he could feel the breath leak out of him and the light burning from his wounds as they stopped at the base of Arreat.

Oh, if there was some form of higher power, he was sure they were laughing at the irony.

He could feel her stir on his chest and in his arms.

She opened her eyes slowly, as if she had been sleeping for too long a time to remember. Her quills brushed against her face as it twisted in confusion. Where was she? What was that she was feeling?

She looked down, and for a moment, the world stopped moving.

She parted her quivering lips, revealing her pale fangs as she let out a small whisper.

"I-Inarius? Is it really you?"

He lost his voice at the sound of hers. So soft and shaky, like a child waiting for a gift they were about to receive, that it made him clench his heart almost painfully at the sound.

That or he was feeling the bite of his wounds all at once.

He nodded, and before he could do anything, she was on him, crying and laying her lips on every part of his face as the hood fell from his head. Grunting in pain…he didn't really notice it as he wrapped his arms around her, clutching her close as the ash fell around them and tears streaked down his face.

He closed his eyes, breathed in her scent and sighed.

He had her, he finally had her.

And he would never let her go.

He opened his eyes, and she was gone.

He snapped around, only to cringe in pain and agony as the hooks left to rust within his flesh dug all the deeper into him as he flailed about and the haze descended upon him.

No. No, it can't be. It's not true. She will be next to me. She's still with me.

But all he had to do was look into the nearest mirror to find the truth in his face and eyes and flesh all at once. She was gone, truly and utterly gone from him in the worlds above and below as his dream had so cruelly ended. She was never coming back to him, never going to touch him, never going to love him ever again.

Even as the demons came for him once more, he didn't struggle, for what point was there?

She was gone.

And now, so was he.

**Thank you for following me in this story. Hopefully, you can find something in it that shows you something I can't find.**

**kingofsecrets15**

**P.S: A call-out to Miss Gems. Thank you for your help in making this story what it was and is now. I hope you enjoyed it.**


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